


Nothing to Write Home About

by semele



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Heroine Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena knows that her story is terribly written. It goes in circles, and no matter what she does, now matter how hard she tries to move on and have a normal life, Damon is a recurring theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Write Home About

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Heroine Big Bang 2012.

There were some nice parts, sure,  
all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas  
and the grains of sugar  
on the toast, _love, love_ and whatever, take a number. I'm sorry  
it's such a lousy story.  
R. Siken, _Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out_

 

Elena knows a thing or two about stories.

She's read enough to know that there's always a pattern: rising action from an opening to a climax, then falling from a climax to a conclusion. There always has to be some sort of structure. Stories shouldn't go in circles or turn into tangled webs of events with neither point nor balance.

Elena knows that her story is terribly written, and that's why she never tells it to anyone, not even herself. She can't stand the lack of coherency, and some of the characters drive her mad, so she tries not to think about it too much. Elena is really good at ignoring things.

In her story, Damon is a recurring theme, and a complete nuisance. Once, Elena tried to take all the things that had happened between them and figure out a structure, but she never got beyond _Once upon a time, in Mystic Falls, Virginia, there was a girl who slept with the wrong brother_ , which isn't a very good beginning. Hell, it's not a beginning at all, but she can't quite put her finger on how everything started, so this is as good as it gets.

***

“I don't love you,” she tells Damon for the hundredth time, and he doesn't even blink; instead, he puts his glass on the table and takes off his shirt.

Elena knows the drill, and she briefly considers telling Damon to get lost, but there is something in his moves that makes her curious, so she doesn't. Why would she? Once it's over, they aren't going to mention it anyway.

He makes her watch as he strips off the rest of his clothes, and she thinks he's being honest, so she decides to be honest as well: she steps out of her shoes and lies down on the floor, propping her head up on her hand. She doesn't go as far as to tell him that she's always enjoyed seeing him so exposed, but it's okay. He doesn't say anything important either.

Later, when Damon moves inside her, he looks a bit vulnerable, but Elena gently lets it slip her mind.

***

“So, do you already know what you wanna do in college?” asks Stefan as they're making their way to their table at the Grill.

Elena smiles exactly like she's supposed to.

Damon and Ric are drinking silently at the bar, but she doesn't want to see them. She takes a seat facing away from them and starts stealing Matt's french fries. Bonnie laughs, threatening to glue Elena’s hands to the table. “It's an easy spell, you know, I can show you!” she says, and then quickly snatches a tiny tomato from Matt's plate.

“So, Elena? What are your plans?” repeats Stefan, before Caroline can join the siege on Matt's dinner.

Elena freezes with her hand over a piece of cucumber. “Science,” she says, like she always does (she has to say something). “I'm thinking about med school.”

Caroline shoots her a quick glance, but doesn't say a word. They're supposed to go to Duke together, everything is settled, nothing left to talk about, so they don't. They don't talk much about anything these days.

***

“You're back early,” says Alaric when she opens the door.

“So are you. I thought I'd be the first one home. Weren't you hanging out with Damon?”

“I was. But I'm trying this new thing when going out for drinks with Damon doesn't end with me crawling into my bed at 4am, totally wasted. I'm practising before the party, you know. Want a sandwich?”

Elena nods, because Ric is trying so hard to make their weird family work, and she's grateful enough to eat his suspiciously looking sandwiches when he offers. She sits with him in the kitchen, makes tea, and chats. How very normal and functional of them.

When Jeremy finally gets home, Elena washes her mug, says goodnight, and goes upstairs. She's sure Jer and Ric have a lot to talk about.

 

***

She enters the party hand in hand with Bonnie and Caroline; it's their last school dance, and they decided to spend it together long ago. This time, there's no theme, no costumes needed. They're supposed to be themselves, their new, adult selves, entering the bright future. At least, that's how Caroline describes it. Caroline is always ready to focus on the future.

Elena dances with a bunch of her classmates, then with Stefan and Damon. It feels a bit awkward to touch Damon in public, but she smiles her way through it. He's a good dancer, and she owed him one anyway, for the sake of old times. It'll be the last time she dances with him, anyway. It's the last party of the year. By the time she comes back to Mystic Falls for Christmas, he'll probably have moved on.

“It's almost a pity to leave this behind, right?” asks Matt as they start dancing together. “You think you'll ever come back for good?”

“I want to. I could take over my dad's old practice, you know. Come back here after school, be a doctor. I belong here,” she answers in one breath. It’s an easy question, and she prepared the answer days ago.

“Remember how you wanted to be a writer?”

“Oh, come on, Matt. I'd make a terrible writer.”

Above Matt's shoulder, she can see Damon raising his glass to her, as though he heard everything she said.

***

Elena knows that sooner or later she's gonna have to start returning Bonnie's calls, but somehow she finds herself just not doing it. It's kind of a challenge, really, to pick up the phone and explain why she's been avoiding her for no good reason

When Bonnie comes over one day unannounced, Elena feels a little bit relieved. 

There is an awkward apology, of course, but after they get it out of the way, it feels just like old days. For a second. 

“Don't you feel a bit nostalgic?” asks Bonnie as if she was reading Elena's mind. “We're going to college, how weird is that?”

“I hate that you'll be so far away.”

“You'll have Caroline to keep you company when I'm in Massachusetts. I'll be all alone, it's me who should be brooding,” she says with a broad smile. Bonnie never takes her brave face off these days.

“I guess you're right.”

“Is everything all right between you and Caroline?”

“What do you mean? Of course it's fine!”

“Elena...”

“It's great, really.”

Elena tries very hard to find a new subject, suddenly terrified. Bonnie sees and knows far too much.

“Sometimes I wish I hadn't told you about the daggers,” says Bonnie after a minute of silence. It's an obvious invitation, but it doesn't matter. Klaus is dead, as are Elijah and Tyler, and Rebekah is buried in the ocean. There's nothing left to talk about.

“I'm glad you did. It had to be done,” says Elena, trying to sound calm. Bonnie shakes her head.

“Doesn't mean I can look Caroline in the face right now.”

Three meetings at the Grill later, Elena finally admits to herself that neither can she. She doesn’t ask Bonnie if this was her reason for choosing a college in Massachusetts. Instead, she persuades herself that she can't really move on if she takes any piece of Mystic Falls with her. It gives her an idea.

She knows that her friends will put up a hell of a fight if they hear she’s decided to take a gap year and leave. So, she doesn't tell them. She leaves the Grill early, goes home, and starts googling for internships in Richmond, Atlanta, maybe even LA. She goes through the search results mechanically, just gathering information, open in new tab, next, open I new tab, next.

After some time her browser is full of opened tabs. She’ll read them tomorrow, and then tomorrow, and the day after that.

***

Sometimes Elena catches herself staring at her own forearms, tracing tiny veins with her fingers and trying to check her own pulse. (“Damon likes to kiss my wrists,” she thinks idly. She really shouldn't have thoughts like that.) Once upon a time her blood used to be special, it broke curses, made hybrids, and killed the Originals one by one; Elena's blood, Katherine's blood, Tatia's blood. Things are different now. It's a relief to no longer be a weapon.

“You're a hero,” says Damon mockingly as he sits between her legs. 

Elena freezes as he kisses her heroic ribs and heroic knees. In Mystic Falls, there are stories no one ever talks about, Tyler Lockwood's disappearance and old daggers that, even when covered in doppelganger blood rather than ashes, could only be wielded by humans.

“No, I'm not,” she states firmly, because she really isn't. She's Elena Gilbert, a girl from Virginia. She will go to college with Caroline and have a normal life. Damon should know that if he thinks he knows her so well.

She's ready to tell him as much, throw her mundane ambitions in his face, but she chokes on her own words. Damon gives her an all-knowing look before he buries his face between her legs, and for a second Elena hates him so much she could rip his head off.

Later that day she turns on her computer, reads all the tabs she's been opening for weeks, and spends the whole night applying for internships. It doesn't take long for replies to start coming. Elena feels like she's making progress.

***

On some weird whim, Elena decides she needs a haircut. It's something people do when their lives change, that's what her mother used to say. New life and new head, new challenges and progress, that's how it's supposed to be.

It would be silly to choose something radical, so she doesn't. Arm's length, a bit shorter at the front, with red highlights that make her hair look more vivid. Once it's all done, Elena feels a little strange. She didn't really know how heavy her hair was. It will take her a few days to get used to not carrying that weight. On her way home, she looks at her reflection in every shop window she passes, hopeful and almost giddy. It's so wonderful to finally be doing something with her life.

“Look at you, a perfect office haircut,” says Jeremy when she gets home. “You need glasses to go with that.”

“Thank you, that's very helpful.”

“Hey, don't go all grown up on me!” warns Jer. And then Elena is laughing with him, shaking her new hair, and feeling surprisingly happy.

It takes a few days before reality sets in again.

***

Damon's quite predictable after you spend some time with him, and Elena has already figured out the pattern. They're great friends for a few days, all cooperative and snarky, and then she ends up going down on him in his own kitchen, or having him against the wall in the hallway. She never plans for it to happen, but then it starts sounding like a dare, or she can't resist the urge to smash something, and there they go. Her friends probably know. Whatever. She didn't tell them. It's none of their business.

It's a vicious circle, so Elena tries to break the pattern: she comes over on a wrong day and shoves her tongue into Damon's mouth, or lets him carry her to bed and touch her like she’s the freaking love of his life. Once she even tried acting like she loved him back, but it didn't work.

Eventually, she stops trying. Now she’s made all the decisions about her future, it doesn't really matter that they're going in circles. True, it's not a very good love story, but it's fun enough. And that's what it is, she tells herself. She's sleeping with Damon for fun.

Elena never tells him that she’s decided not to go to college yet. She doesn't tell anyone except for Jeremy and Alaric. But right before she goes, she leaves Damon a goodbye note on his bedside table. It's a good way to end a story.

***

Richmond isn't as bad as Elena thought it‘d be. Sure, there’s noise, and the city is a little too crowded for her liking, but she'll get used to it after a few headaches. Besides, Elena's already decided she _will_ like Richmond and make the most of her gap year. She just needs to focus on the good things: her internship is interesting; her flat, though tiny, is rather nice; and nothing wants to kill her, which is quite an improvement.

After a few weeks Elena grows to love being on her own. The freedom is so overwhelming she doesn't even try very hard to make friends at work. It's not that she doesn't like the people. She does. It just feels so good to come back to an empty flat and know that no one is going to bother her. That's how most of her nights look right now: she turns off her phone, wraps herself in a blanket, spends hours reading novels she hasn't touched in the last two years, catches up on movies, wastes time on Tumblr. She's ready to live happily ever after.

Having a normal life takes some getting used to, but she tells herself it's only natural after everything she's been through. It's not like she has any real problems now. 

Nothing to write home about.

***

When Damon Salvatore shows up on her doorstep one day, Elena isn't even surprised. 

She makes him wait; she’s petty like that. She stands in the doorway, chats with him as if nothing’s happened, pretends not to notice how annoyed he’s getting. She only lets him in when he explicitly asks for an invitation.

Well, he owed her one anyway, for tricking her into inviting him in when they first met.

“So, a publishing house?”

“Surprised?”

“Nah. I worked in a publishing house once, you know?”

“You _worked_?”

“Drop the attitude. I'll let you know that I'm an excellent editor. I can read your first novel for you if you want. I promise an honest opinion.”

“I'm not writing a novel.”

“Sure you are.”

He's wrong, of course, she hasn't written a word of anything for months. But then, she knows exactly what he really meant. It makes her fists itch a bit. He really shouldn't know those things.

Elena doesn't even notice the conversation is dying until the silence hits her. She can tell exactly what's gonna happen next. The plot was always quite predictable when it came to them, and she really should've known a goodbye note wouldn't make a good ending. So here it goes: Damon Salvatore, chapter two.

“You can't kiss me now,” she tells him as he starts moving closer. He gets the hint, lowers his mouth to her collarbone as she fumbles with his belt buckle.

***

“Hey, we should go running together,” offers Sophie cheerfully at work. “I saw you running the other day in the park, and I thought I'd ask. Us interns should stay together, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” answers Elena automatically. Sophie is nice enough, and it's not like she can avoid social life forever. 

They go after work. They don't set a goal, they just run straight ahead until they feel they've had enough.

“That must've been a few miles,” gasps Elena when they finally stop.

“Must've. You're good at that, I could barely keep up. Who are you, girl? Did you run marathons in high school or what?”

“Just jogging for fun,” lies Elena smoothly. She has a clean slate now, and she likes that she can fill it with anything she wants.

“You're from Virginia, right?”

“Yeah, a small town no one's ever heard about. Why?”

“Curiosity,” admits Sophie with a sheepish smile. “You're one mysterious girl, you never talk about yourself. We share an office, and I know nothing about you! And I'm a terrible gossip. What?” she exclaims when Elena starts laughing. “I am! Hey, nobody's perfect. So, why did you take a gap year? A heartbreak?”

“No! I wanted a fresh start.”

“Heartbreak it is.”

***

Damon keeps showing up like nothing happened. Elena isn't even surprised. His coming to Richmond for a short visit isn’t likely. She has no idea where he lives now, and she never asks, not even when she doesn't see him for days. She's fairly sure he stalks her, but it’s not like she expects anything else, so whatever. As long as he doesn't show his face, she doesn't care.

“Don't you have, like, a life to live?” she asks one night. It's funny how once upon a time she wouldn't have thought twice before asking a question like that.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I happen to like big cities, you know? I wanted a break from small-town life.”

“Sure. And Richmond is suddenly so attractive.”

“You'd be surprised.”

She knows she could push further, force him to acknowledge exactly how pathetic he is, but for whatever reason she doesn't. She kind of likes that he can't let her go, enjoys how bad he is at pretending he isn't obsessed.

It makes her feel less needy.

***

Elena has a morning routine: she brushes her teeth; puts her hair into a neat ponytail, just the way she's supposed to; dutifully eats her muesli and drinks a glass of orange juice; and gets to work ten minutes early, in light make-up and an impeccably white shirt.

Well, in theory, at least.

Damon is always obnoxiously smug in the morning, as though he’s trying to get the upper hand, and Elena knows better than to make it easier for him by getting angry. Mornings are her payback: she puts her head on Damon's chest, invades his personal space with her warm skin and relaxed muscles. He can't not hold her.

She goes to work just a few minutes later than planned, leaving him devastated and wide awake.

***

They go like that for weeks. Every morning Elena takes a deep breath, steps into the publishing house, and carries on with her life. She does all the important stuff: loads of stapling and sorting the mail, not to mention producing whole gallons of coffee. Almost every day she has lunch with Anna and Sophie and Sophie's boyfriend Charlie; they talk movies and politics, and, surprisingly, Elena really starts enjoying the company. 

“You need to go out more,” announces Sophie cheerfully. 

Elena rolls her eyes, already knowing she'll agree. Sophie is talkative and bubbly, a little bit like Caroline before things went to hell. Elena tries not to think about it too much.

“Oh, I don't know,” she teases lightly just to see Sophie pout.

“Are you still pining for that guy?”

“Wait, there's a guy?” Suddenly Anna is all ears.

Elena doesn't say a word. Sophie got it into her head that a tragic love story made Elena flee her hometown; now, she has hundreds of crazy theories about it. She spins them all by herself, and Elena only smiles mysteriously. She likes Sophie's stories better than her own.

Once she figured out how to not say too much about herself, Elena started being able to make new friends. She's surprised now how much she enjoys hanging out with these people. Once or twice she even lets Anna talk her into joining a girl's night out. And when Mike from graphic design asks her out right before Christmas, she almost wishes she didn't have to refuse.

At home she cooks dinner, does the laundry, worries that there might be ants in her bathroom (it's good, she keeps telling herself, to finally be worried about things like this). When Ric or Jeremy call her in the evening, she sincerely tells them she is okay, really.

“How is Mystic Falls?” Damon always asks casually after she hangs up. 

She hardly ever honors his question with an answer.

***

“He was a controlling dick who wanted to know my every move,” says Sophie with emphasis. 

Anna gives her a sympathetic sigh. “Been there, done that. Mine hated all of my friends, and even my cat. No one is allowed to hate my cat. Every time I think about that guy, I'm suddenly glad I'm single.”

When Sophie starts praising Charlie, Elena is surprised by her own anger. She should be used to this by now, chit-chats about clothes, exes, and boyfriends, but apparently she isn't. This shouldn't be happening. She tries to calm down, breathes slowly, tries to relax her muscles.

“How about the guy who made you flee your home town?” asks Sophie suddenly, because you can always count on her to ask the wrong question. “Any juicy stories?”

Startled, Elena gives them the story Jenna used to tell about Logan Fell, then gives a lame excuse and goes back to work. 

She spends the rest of the day trying and failing to figure out why she's so angry. She doesn't know why she suddenly wants them to know that her story is not that simple, that it's bigger than some petty gossip, and can't just be told over lunch.

In a proper story, sex with Damon Salvatore would be why Elena left Mystic Falls. It's probably what everyone thinks back home. But Elena knows better than to believe something like that. Sex with Damon just... was. Nothing terribly special about it. There was some drama (what with them fighting the Originals and so on), and a fair amount of guilt, because Elena _wasn't that kind of girl_. Of course, she totally _was_ that kind of girl, and only after a while did she conclude she wasn't any _kind_ of girl. So she gave it a rest. Back then, she actually had real problems to worry about.

When Damon waltzed back into her life, they simply resumed whatever it was that they had before. It doesn't feel like there even was a pause. They fell easily into their old vicious circle: one day they hang out like best friends, go to the movies or play drinking games in pubs, next day they rip each other's clothes off before they can even reach the bed. There‘s no difference between sleeping with Damon in Mystic Falls and sleeping with him in Richmond; it's just as unplanned and just as predictable and, frankly, it would probably be much better if they both weren't so self-centered.

They never talk about it. Except in front of other people. 

***

Elena is drowning in tedious paperwork, praying for time to run faster. The radio is too loud and her desk too small. Everything here is so ridiculously small.

“You look all glum,” says Sophie from behind her computer. Elena lets out an impatient sigh, reminding herself that she likes Sophie and she likes her job, there's no reason for her to be so annoyed.

“I'm alphabetizing things I never even knew could be alphabetized.”

“That would be why you look like a huge 'Stay away' sign.”

“Sorry, just... A bad day.”

“You have many bad days lately. Is everything all right?”

“It's perfect. Everything is perfect.”

***

“If you ask me, humanity is overrated.”

Elena really doesn't want to understand this, but it's too late. Damon is calm and honest, almost solemn, ready to talk feelings and stuff and, God, she's not having any of this.

She runs to the kitchen, knowing that he’ll chase her.

Calmly, she starts doing dishes. Two plates and two mugs (does he live here now or what?). It's a good excuse to not look at his face. A mirror is the last thing she needs right now.

“It doesn't make any sense. Why do you keep coming back here?” she spits without thinking, before realizing her mistake. She really shouldn’t ask questions she doesn't want to know the answers to.

“I'm stuck with you,” answers Damon simply. “Whenever I try to move on, I just end up coming back to you.”

He wants to say more, he always wants to say more, but Elena turns from the sink, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. Damon follows her like he always does, never mind the soap smearing on his shirt and face. He knows all too well why she’s kissing him, but that's not a problem. She can handle him knowing, as long as he doesn't say it out loud. Those are the rules.

She only sleeps with him in the dark (truth, as Elena imagines it, can only happen in the dark), and neither of them ever makes a sound. Elena is sure Damon can be quite vocal, but she never gives him a chance. It's not like he would say anything even remotely relevant anyway. 

Once they get to her bedroom, Elena knows exactly what to do. She lets her face go blank, starts taking off her clothes, looks at him without blinking, pushing him to a level of honesty that leaves him speechless. That's not something Damon Salvatore can ever resist, not with her. They're all clumsy hands and agonizing foreplay, feather-light kisses and fangs; pushing each other just a little harder than the other person can handle.

This, they could never tell anyone.

***

One day, completely out of the blue, Elena kicks Damon out of bed.

“I can't have you here. This isn't right,” she tells him. “You're... I need to set things straight.”

Damon looks puzzled for a moment, but then his face goes blank. Elena immediately wishes they weren't having this conversation now, wishes he would just vanish as unexpectedly as he appeared.

“We can't go on like this,” she explains softly. Maybe if she just keeps talking all the time, she can stop him from saying something she doesn't wan to hear. “We have to move on.”

“Move on? What are you talking about?”

“It's like we're still stuck in Mystic Falls,” she says, annoyed that he can't see something so obvious. “I feel like we've never left.”

“This is nothing like Mystic Falls,” Damon points out. “In case you haven't noticed the lack of mortal danger.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Elena?”

She bites her tongue before she can give him the answer she has in mind. “It's complicated,” she says weakly. She feels an urge to snap, to throw at his face how everything about him is wrong, but she doesn't. She's not that person any more.

“I get it,” says Damon with an ugly smile. “I need to go so you can be happy with your perfect little life and your 9 to 5 job again.”

“It's not like that.”

“Sure it is.”

He turns around and walks out without another word, leaving behind a toothbrush and a spare shirt. Elena throws them out without blinking. Once she's done, she calls Mike back. 

***

What's he like?” asks Bonnie over the phone. 

Elena smiles, it's been too long since they talked. “Nice enough. You'd like him.”

“Is he good... you know?”

“Bonnie!”

“Oh, come on. Is he?”

“I'm so not answering that question.”

“I take it as a yes,” says Bonnie gleefully. 

Elena's still laughing when they hang up, and this, she thinks, sounds like a very good beginning.

***

Mike's hands are gentle when he wraps his arms around her waist. Elena pauses in her dish-washing to lean into him. He kisses her neck, right above the scars he's never noticed; she can't even bring herself to tell him how much she hates it when he touches her neck. She loves that he doesn't even recognize the teeth-shaped scars, She doesn't want to ruin it.

She is peaceful, calm, and numb when Mike carries her to his bed and covers her face with kisses.

“What do you want?” he asks softly. 

Elena laughs. “Dinner and a movie would be nice,” she says before she starts unbuttoning his shirt (he wouldn't want to know the real answer anyway).

“What, right now?”

“I guess I could wait a few hours.”

“That can be arranged,” whispers Mike right into her ear. 

She tries to relax under his touch. He places her hand on his cheek and asks her to lead him exactly where she wants. Mike always takes his time with her, and he's a quick learner. It's a pity she didn't meet him sooner.

He likes to leave the light on, so Elena smiles the whole time.

***

Mike sometimes works crazy hours, but they still have a honeymoon kind of love where he brings her breakfast to bed and always remembers how much sugar she likes in her tea. Mike, Elena concludes, is all about peace, comfort and safety, and that's what she likes about him. They talk a lot, floating between subjects and getting to know each other. Elena’s glad that she’s always loved dancing, because right now that’s how she spends a good deal of her spare time. Mike has friends who sometimes make truly bizarre music choices, but they throw excellent parties all the same, so Elena can’t complain.

“You think you could ever murder someone?” she asks one night. 

Mike almost chokes on his drink. “And you're asking me this now, because?”

“Just a thought.”

“You are full of surprises,” he says with a grin, like this conversation is just a joke. 

And it should be a joke, Elena reminds herself. Who in their right mind would seriously discuss murder during a party?

“Am I now?”

***

Elena watches her mouth after that. Mike isn’t hard to figure out, and Elena soon learns how to always ask the right questions. This is the life she's always wanted; it can't come without a price.

“Do you love him?” asks Sophie when they're running their usual route around the park.

Elena says, “Of course I do,” without missing a beat, in perfect control of her breath, her legs, and her mouth. “Of course I do.”

***

Elena likes big, crowded parties with loud music, and that's how she usually spends Friday nights with Mike. This time she probably drank a bit too much, but it doesn't matter. No one can hear her over the noise anyway.

When she comes home, tipsy, tired, and messy, she finds Damon sitting on her doorstep.

An unexpected rush of anger hits Elena, making her dizzy. He's not supposed to be here, not now and not ever. It's wrong of him to be here.

“Why the hell did you come back?” she spits out, before noticing just how wasted he is.

“I promised I'd never leave you, remember?”he says. He doesn't even look at her.

“We can't do this any more. You need to go,” explains Elena, trying very hard to keep her anger at bay. “I'm seeing someone.”

“So?”

“So I need you to go.”

“Do you?” he asks, standing up slowly.

Elena thinks she can see a hint of amusement in his eyes, and it's enough to make her start yelling. The sound of her own raised voice is such a relief she keeps going louder and louder. There's a good chance she's waking up half of her neighbors, but she doesn't care. She's furious and she relishes in her fury: her breath is ragged and her hands are shaking – she doesn't remember the last time she let herself snap like this.

Damon's done talking, just stands there, eyes still focused on her face. Elena suddenly feels the urge to shake him, to slap him as hard as she can; it's like her head will explode if she doesn’t.

So she does.

“What's wrong with you?” 

Damon lets out a short, sharp chuckle. All she wants to do is hit him again. 

She can't not let him in.

***

In the morning Damon sneaks out without a word. Elena wakes up in an empty bed, exactly like she expected, anger and guilt still buzzing pleasantly under her skin. She knows she probably should call Mike and tell him what she did, but she doesn't feel like it, so she follows her whim.

She goes for her lunch with Mike exactly as planned, kisses him on the cheek, manages to keep a poker face, tells him she slept well.

“Are you sure? No hangover?”

“Nope, I'm feeling great.”

“I didn't know you could hold your liquor that well.”

“Never underestimate me.”

She's wired and restless, like she's had too much coffee. Mike starts looking at her with concern, but she ignores his questions, and orders even more coffee. It's been a while since she’s felt like this -- anxious, guilty, nervous, angry. It's a bit overwhelming, and definitely too much for her, but it's okay.

She can take it all out on Damon.

***

Of course she does talk to Mike, eventually; there’s only so long one can dwell on guilt. She breaks up with him smoothly, and then she carries on; they never speak of it again.

Maybe she can deal with this “having a normal life” stuff after all.

***

Elena yells a lot those days. She doesn't quite know what to do with all the feelings that appear out of nowhere, catching up with her after weeks of silence. It’s easy to open her mouth and just scream. It's so easy to slip into anger -- so natural, and almost too comfortable. Damon doesn't deserve to be yelled at, she knows that, but she does it nonetheless. He takes it all without blinking, even taunts her a little, and sometimes she thinks he wants this.

“Why do you do that?” she asks him on a quiet day. “Why do you keep pushing it?”

“I'm not doing anything.”

“Come on, Damon. That's a lie.”

He gives her a wicked smile, and leans over to kiss her wrist. Elena's fist clenches as Damon licks her pulse point, but she refuses to snap, though she can see that he’s deliberately leaving her an opening. There still are lines she doesn't cross.

***

She always half-expects Damon to say something really melodramatic, like “I won't wait for you forever” or “You know you belong with me.” Sometimes, when he’s being all friendly and mature, she thinks that he might be above such clichés – but even then it's hard to forget that this is the guy who once said “I will always choose you” and “I want you to remember the things you felt”, and a bunch of other things that can't really escape her mind.

But, for whatever reason, he leaves Elena drama-free, at least for now. She can't quite figure out why.

It’s unnerving, to be honest. Like walking on eggshells, because Damon only does _mature_ to screw with it, and the last thing Elena needs right now is for him to have an outburst of crazy. The way he pretends not to notice when she starts dating this or that guy is so bad it almost makes her laugh.

She doesn't ask, because he wouldn't give a remotely relevant answer. 

And then, of course, she does ask.

“What makes you think that I’d be jealous?” he replies and does the eye thing because, apparently, it would kill him not to.

“Seriously, Damon?”

“No, really. I mean, I can be jealous if you want me to. All you have to do is ask. Who do you want me to be, Elena?”

Well, she did ask.

***

When they enter a bar, Elena immediately spots a group of people from the publishing house. 

“Come on, you can't have a modernized version of Sherlock Holmes that's good. Absolutely impossible,” says Charlie before he downs the last of his beer. 

“There's something seriously wrong with you,” announces Alice. “Just so you know.”

Elena's first instinct is to turn around and find another bar. She catches Damon's sleeve, but he pretends not to notice; he just walks straight into the crowd, all confident and suave. 

“Well, at least the clothes are better. I hate the period costumes,” he says casually when he reaches the table.

He ignores Elena's murderous looks and introduces himself politely. “I feel like I've know you guys for ages,” he says with a fake smile. “Elena talks about you all the time.”

“You two should join us, you know,” says Sophie cheerfully. She's pratically radiating curiosity. “We were just gonna check out this new Chinese place around the corner. I bet you love Chinese!”

“Thanks, but we've already eaten,” answers Elena quickly. She can't think of a better excuse. Not right now, when she's too uncomfortable to even think straight.

“Maybe we can join you later,” adds Damon with an impish grin.

“You do that!” exclaims Sophie. “Make sure you do that!”

Alice shoots Elena an amused look on her way out of the bar, but Elena can't even return a smile.

“You did that on purpose!” she says when she's sure her friends can't hear her any more.

“Yeah, I deliberately said hello. How terrible of me.”

She can't give a reasonable answer to that, so she orders drinks instead.

“Would you like to dance?” offers Damon reverently.

He's clearly mocking himself, and suddenly Elena wants to laugh. She's still angry, but also amused, embarrassed, giddy and anxious. It's a bit much, but it doesn't matter. 

She can feel everything at once.

“What's so funny?” asks Damon after a minute or so. “I'll have you know that I'm an excellent dancer.”

Elena ignores his remark. She gives him an honest, open look.

“You know I'm gonna leave you, right?” she asks simply.

“I figured that much.”

“You sound like you don't care.”

Damon smiles and takes a sip of his whisky.

“It's not that bad, you know,” he says. “Takes some getting used to.”

“Well, you used to take it much more seriously,” she baits, curious. 

“I'm not in any position to take myself seriously.” 

***

Damon’s always a little too rough for her, but she can't imagine it any other way. 

She noticed long ago that he only touches her in the way he wants to be touched himself, so she simply slips under his skin – it fits like a glove. 

She clenches her fingers on his hipbones as she goes down on him. It gets messy; she feels his hands enveloping her skull. There are tense muscles, and whispers, and harsh breaths, and it's too much.

When she chokes, she has the decency not to tell herself it was just her gag reflex.

Afterwards, Elena takes a couple of deep breaths. She can feel anger, excitement, curiosity and fear buzzing pleasantly under her skin. She even lets her mind wander for a bit. It's not like anything important's gonna happen.

When she opens her eyes, Damon is standing by the table pouring drinks. His hands are shaking a little, and that's what suddenly makes him real: he‘s naked, biting his lip, desperately trying to regain control over his own body. It always takes him a while, Elena thinks fondly; it's all in his head, just like it is in hers. She briefly considers asking him about it, those feelings buzzing under her skin, but decides against it. It's not like she doesn't know already.

“We sort of fucked up this whole love story, didn't we?” she asks instead, taking the glass from him.

“Yeah,” answers Damon after a minute or so. “Yeah, we did."


End file.
